


Alpine Christmas

by Whisper132



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-17
Updated: 2007-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are ski-offs, questionable ski instructors, and fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alpine Christmas

  
If one more person wished him a merry Christmas, Keigo would scream. The staff of the resort his parents deemed worthy enough to be the Atobe family retreat for the holiday break was swarming with tourists and staff members dressed as elves. If Atobe wanted to be swarmed by Christmas cosplayers and low class nitwits, he could've gone to a shopping district.

"Keigo!" Atobe's mother waved to him from the reception desk. "Come get your key!"

He hefted himself out of the polyester upholstered lobby chair and dragged his feet to get the key to his room. It was on the top floor, a suite though not the honeymoon suite, which his parents reserved for themselves, even though they were obviously not newlyweds and imagining the two of them in the room's advertised heart-shaped bathtub was enough to make Keigo vomit up his airline peanuts.

"May I take your bags, sir?"

Atobe glared at the bellhop's shoes, green loafers with bells dangling from the top. Revolting. And he was smiling, a big, cheesy grin, as if lifting Atobe's bags was the most wonderful thing in the world. Atobe hoped the idiot herniated a disc. "Fine."

"Keigo! Manners!" Atobe-san thwapped her son on the head with a map of the resort's ski slopes. "Now behave on vacation and don't forget about your ski lessons this afternoon."

Having just stepped off a plane an hour ago, Keigo was in no mood for skiing, or much of anything. He answered, "Yes, ma'am," to avoid another thwap on the head, then trudged behind the bellhop.

"Is this your first time at Melody Pines?" The bellhop entered the reserved use elevator, holding it open for Atobe. "We have a wide variety of services. Please don't hesitate to call on any of our staff if you find yourself in need." The bellhops eyes roamed up and down Atobe's leather pants. "My name is Sven."

If the guy's name was actually Sven, Atobe would walk out naked in the snow. He went to tell the man so but was interrupted by his phone ringing. Satellite cellular was lovely. "Yes?"

"Hey Atobe, where the hell are you? You're not home." Jirou sounded out of breath. He must've run around the fence surrounding Atobe's estate.

Atobe's stomach shriveled and he gripped at the front of his shirt. "Switzerland. My mother's idea. We're skiing." The vacation wouldn't have been such a disaster if Atobe were allowed to bring a friend - or give proper notice to Jirou so that the volley specialist didn't think Atobe was a date-ditching asshole. "My parents wanted it to be a surprise. I woke up on the jet."

"How many hours ago was that?" Jirou mumbled, the static of the phone nearly masking his response.

Atobe cupped his hand over the phone. "Jesus, not now." The elevator dinged and the door opened. "I've got to go finish checking in. Call you when I'm done?"

"We're going to pick up my aunt. I won't be answering my phone. Merry Christmas, Keigo."

Jirou hung up and Atobe snapped his phone closed. "Shit."

"Girlfriend trouble?" Sven asked from behind the luggage trolley.

Atobe's spine straightened as the inevitability of getting dumped took hold. "There is no trouble," he told the overly nosy bellhop. Tomorrow he would call Jirou and explain things again, when the other boy wasn't so emotional.

Until then, he'd hide in his room and feel miserable.

  
&-&

  
Gakuto's body mass was never meant to sustain him in subzero weather. No matter what he tried, he couldn't get warm. Thermals, turtleneck, sweater, down parka – none of it helped.

"Are you cold, Gakuto?" Yuushi ran his arms up and down Gakuto's silver parka. "We'll hurry with the room assignments so we can get you properly warmed up."

No one really understood what it was like to play doubles with Oshitari. Everyone assumed Yuushi was deliberately trying to sex Gakuto up at every opportunity. They failed to realize that Yuushi could read a phone book or a geometry text and sound dirty. It was all in the cadence. When Yuushi said he wanted to warm Gakuto up, he probably meant he wanted to find some heated blankets and build Gakuto a cocoon in which to thaw. Explaining that to _some_ people, though, was impossible.

"Don't exhaust yourself too much, Yuushi. Save some excitement for the rest of the week." Oshitari Kenya was a loud mouthed idiot who couldn't keep his damn nose out of other people's business.

"Kenya." Shiraishi Kuranosuke, on the other hand, was quiet and generally a nice guy. The bandages were weird, though. "We should leave them be, don't you think?"

A familiar tuft of hair caught Gakuto's eye and he turned just in time to see a surly Atobe stomp into an elevator.

"Gakuto," his mother said, handing him two folders, "here are the keys for the rooms. Give me or your father a call if you need anything." Mukahi's parents waved and headed to the opposite side of the resort.

"Here." Gakuto tossed two keys to the Shitenhouji players and pocketed his and Yuushi's keys. If he gave Yuushi a key now, the tensai would just put it in his pants and leave it there for the duration of the trip. "Let's go, Yuushi, it's freezing in here." Ignoring Kenya's comments about body heat, Mukahi grabbed Yuushi's arm and headed for the elevators.

  
&-&

  
Oshitari Kenya was doomed to spend his vacation as Shiraishi's secretary, passing messages along from his teammates, who knew his cell phone would work and Shiraishi's wouldn't.

"Zaizen wants to know why Chitose can't watch Kintarou," he grumbled, staring at a beverage he wished had some alcohol in it. Alcohol always worked in manga.

"Tell him Chitose's busy. Send him that photo you got this morning." Shiraishi looked calm as ever, drawing lazy circles on the café table and sipping at a cocoa.

"The one with him and Tachibana lip locking in front of a thousand hippies? You wanna traumatize the kid?"

Kura shrugged. "It'll teach him not to call. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Kenya's phone chirped out the theme to Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon. "It's Konjiki," he grumbled. "You answer it."

"Fine." Shiraishi took the phone and turned it off. "Problem solved. If you don't turn it on, they can't bother you."

"What if my mom calls?" Kenya's mother was a nervous woman. She made him pack twenty pair of underwear, just in case the flight was delayed and the washing machines were out or he had an accident. Kenya's only accident was telling his mom he was going on a trip with Yuushi instead of saying he was going with Chitose, universal Good Guy and Mother Placater. Kenya could stay a month in a brothel so long as he tacked 'and I'm going with Chitose' to the end of his explanation.

Kuranosuke sighed. "Your face is going to freeze that way." He trailed a finger along Kenya's frown. "Isn't it time for skiing lessons? You promised I'd leave here a master."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go rent you some skis." Kenya gulped down his tepid cappuccino and trudged to the pro shop.

  
&-&

  
Apologizing via text message wasn't Atobe's first choice, but Jirou wasn't picking up his phone and Atobe hated leaving messages. He never knew what to say to a message and he only had sixty seconds. Sixty seconds was insufficient for the sort of apology Atobe had in mind, something grand and tear-inducing that would make Jirou want to hop the next plane to Switzerland and cuddle with Atobe under a down comforter while they listened to carols and watched the snow fall outside their window.

 _Jirou, please don't be upset. I had no choice. I didn't know. I miss you. Please call me. –Keigo_

Come to think of it, perhaps the voice message might have been better, he could've at least put in a few breathy sighs.

"Sir, we're beginning class. Please come to the meeting area." A man in a black ski suit had the nerve to touch Atobe's arm.

Atobe looked at his cell phone. No reply. Usually, Jirou replied within 30 seconds.

"Oh, it's Atobe."

The drawl crawled into Atobe's skin and made his stomach wrap around itself. Before turning around, Atobe checked his reflection in his keitai screen to make sure he didn't look disgusted. "Oshitari…Mukahi. I never dreamed you would be here, and with a peasant, too." Atobe tipped his ski goggles to Shiraishi. "And he's even brought his own bandages to save on medical costs when he plummets into a ravine. How thoughtful."

Shiraishi wobbled forward on his skis. "Be careful when standing around him, Kenya. His ego will melt the snow."

"Gakuto, you should lend Shiraishi-kun one of your poles. It seems two isn't enough to keep him on his feet." Atobe snapped his goggles over his eyes and posed. "If you had one tenth of ore-sama's skill, I would challenge you to a race, but I don't want to be responsible for your broken bones."

"The one who reaches the bottom first is the winner," Shiraishi said, slightly more balanced though not by much.

"Tomorrow at noon, then?" Atobe was so busy being snide he almost missed his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. "If you'll excuse me, I have to take this." Sliding slowly and carefully, Atobe took out his phone while moving toward the lodge.

 _Sorry, I was asleep. Get me something cool while you're there?_ The message ended with a photo of Jirou, hair ruffled and lips puckered. It was so wonderful that Atobe didn't mind falling on his ass in the snow when he lost his balance.

  
&-&

  
Yuushi didn't care for Ski Instructor Sebastian. Ski Instructor Sebastian was touching Gakuto's hips and moving them around in ways that only Yuushi was permitted to move them.

"I'll demonstrate the technique now. Watch carefully." Sebastian pushed off down the small mogul practice hill.

Yuushi pushed off, too, riding the back of Sebastian's skis to the bottom. "It's quite easy, Gakuto. Try." Oshitari held out his arms and smiled as nicely as he could when all he really wanted to do was lift his left ski and smack Sebastian in the groin.

"This is boring, guys." Gakuto pushed off and flew down the moguls, jumping high and twirling in the air. "Let's go, Yuushi, it's cold out here."

With a last look to Sebastian, Yuushi escorted Gakuto to the lodge, making sure his hand remained near Gakuto's backside at all times, index finger extended just in case Sebastian was looking where he shouldn't.

  
&-&

  
"So, essentially, what you're telling me is that you can't ski." Kenya shook his head and flopped down onto his hotel bed. "What am I supposed to tell everyone when you break your leg and can't play in the winter tournament?"

"It can't be hard if _he_ does it." Shiraishi sat down beside Kenya and began unwrapping his bandages.

"You didn't even stay for the lesson. You have no idea what you're doing." The ceiling was looking pretty good to Kenya, it was nice and white and calm, like snow. "If you die, then they'll make Chitose captain. I can't deal with that."

"I'm not going to die." Kura sat down next to Kenya and traced the English on his t-shirt. "If I do get hospitalized, though, you'll come visit me and bring me treats, yes?"

Kenya knew he wasn't the smartest in the Oshitari clan, but even Yuushi would have more sense than to nod and grin just for the luxury of one kiss. Maybe the cold was getting to his brain.

  
&-&

  
"Two thousand yen says Atobe wipes out first." Gakuto held up his bet and waited while Yuushi considered.

Kenya snorted and pulled out two notes. "Atobe owns his own pair of skis; Kura's never even been down a bunny hill. My money's on him."

"What about you, Yuushi?" Gakuto waddled over to Yuushi – he was too layered to bring his legs fully together – and waited while the tensai continued to brood.

"Double K.O.," Yuushi decided. "They'll run into eachother and fall down the hill."

The hill the two were skiing down wasn't too bad, just an intermediate slope; Gakuto could take it, easy.

"They're about to start," Kenya said, pointing to the top of the hill and the two combatants wobbling from side to side. As one, Shiraishi and Atobe launched off the top and flew down. They made it ten feet before their skis twisted and they began to roll.

"Looks like I win," Yuushi said, grabbing for his winnings. "I'll call a doctor."

  
&-&

  
The hospital was warm and Atobe's mug was always full of warm cider. If not for the broken leg, everything would be lovely. Well, almost everything.

 _My leg hurts. Wish you were here._ It was the fifth message in the last twenty minutes but, cooped up with his leg in a sling and nothing but Swiss television, there wasn't much for Atobe to do.

In the middle of writing another message, describing the silliness of European television and the horrible colors of the drapery, a nurse entered, rolling in a cot. "You'll be having a visitor soon," she said, smiling like she wasn't talking to the most unlucky boy on earth. If the cot was for Shiraishi, Atobe was buying the hospital and having all the staff executed.

"Oi, Atobe, this place is really green. Why is everything green?" Jirou entered the room and tossed his backpack in a corner and a plush sheep on the cot. "And why didn't you go on vacation to somewhere warm? The cold makes me sleepy." A yawn stretched his jaw. "Mom says hi, by the way. She and dad are checking us in."

Even though his leg was throbbing in pain, Atobe wanted to get up and fold Jirou, his wonderful, beautiful Jirou, in a hug. Instead, he had to resort to a pout and flinging his arms out and waiting for Jirou to come to him.

Jirou stretched and pulled up one side of Atobe's covers. "Scoot," he demanded, shoving at Atobe's bruised hip.

Stars shot across his vision when he moved and Atobe was fairly certain he was going to pass out from pain. "I won," he said. "I got to the bottom first." It was true. Shiraishi's skis slowed his roll, putting him three seconds behind Atobe.

"Shh. Your body heals best when you're asleep." Jirou snuggled up to Atobe's side. "You can't go anywhere on your own, can you Keigo?"

Atobe's eyelids felt oddly heavy and, when he responded, he did so between long yawns. "Ore-sama is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He simply prefers your company."

Jirou nuzzled at Atobe's side again. "Missed you, too. Mom was getting annoyed with all your text messages, though. She took my phone away."

"You'll just have to stay with me until you get it back, then." If Atobe were more awake, he might have registered the snickering behind the door and a few cries of pain coming from Shiraishi's room on the other side of the wall. As it was, he barely placed his lips to the top of Jirou's head before he was asleep, dreaming of skiing on fleecy clouds toward a tennis court where a curly haired boy napped.

When he woke up, he would remember that he still hadn't bought a Christmas present.


End file.
